Maxim gripped his ticket and looked at the familiar station. Three years away from home, three years of hard work in the logging camps—all for this moment. In his backpack were gifts for his mother and his sister Tatyana, and in his pocket—the cherished ring for Irina.
“Maxim? Is that really you?”
He turned and saw his neighbor Nikolai. The old man looked older.
“Nikolai Petrovich!” Maxim smiled broadly. “How are things back home? I bet Mom’s already getting ready to welcome the prodigal son?”
Nikolai’s face grew serious; his eyes darkened.
“Boy… didn’t anyone write to you?”
“About what?” A note of caution slipped into Maxim’s voice.
“Your mother… her heart gave out two years ago. And Tanya…” The old man sighed heavily. “She vanished. Left her daughter, locked her up alone in winter, and ran off. The girl waited for her three days before breaking a window. The neighbors heard her crying.”
Maxim felt the world tilt around him.
“Mother died?”
“Yes, we buried her in the local cemetery. And your sister…” Nikolai shook his head in disgust. “Her husband ran off—couldn’t stand her temper. She hit the bottle so hard even the local drunks kept their distance. She soured like spoiled milk.”
For a minute Maxim stood silent, trying to digest what he’d heard.
“Where’s Katya?”
“In an orphanage. There were no relatives… we thought you’d disappeared off the face of the earth too.”
“And what about Tanya? Where is she?”
“Who knows!” Nikolai waved a hand. “A month ago someone saw her by the station—filthy, swollen. Begging for alms. Shameful! Your mother must be turning over in her grave.”
The family home met Maxim with boarded-up windows and a jungle of weeds. Nikolai and his wife Zinaida invited him in to tell him the details of the tragedy.
“Your mother hoped for your return to the very end,” Zinaida said, setting a bowl of cabbage soup in front of Maxim. “She kept repeating, ‘My little Maxim will come back, he’ll set everything right.’ And Tatyana…” The woman winced. “That viper knew only how to drink away your mother’s money.”
“We tried to help,” Nikolai added. “But she turned mean as a rabid dog, snapping at everyone. Called people the foulest names, even cursed at the neighbors’ kids.”
“And her husband, Viktor—he put up with it, put up with it, then ran off to a lover,” Zinaida went on. “Told everyone, ‘Living with a drunk is no life, it’s a slow death.’ He wasn’t wrong.”
“What happened to Katya after you found her?” Maxim asked cautiously.
“The girl sat there alone for three days, crying,” Zinaida wiped her eyes. “When we dug her out of that hell, she was like a frightened little animal. Kept asking, ‘When will Uncle Max come? He promised.’”
Maxim clenched his fists. Inside, everything burned with anger at his sister and at himself.
“I’ll tell you what—your Tatyana is a monster in a skirt,” Nikolai couldn’t hold back. “What kind of mother abandons a child in winter? Animals take better care of their young.”
The next day Maxim went to the city. He needed to buy a present for Katya and find out what was required to get guardianship.
In the toy store, a dark-haired saleswoman watched closely as Maxim picked out a doll.
“For your daughter?” she asked gently.
“For my niece. For little Katya,” Maxim answered, and his voice immediately grew warm. “She’s seven. She loves dolls with long hair she can braid. And she dreams of a dollhouse—the kind with tiny furniture and dishes.”
The saleswoman smiled.
“You talk about her so tenderly, as if she were your own daughter.”
“I love her very much,” Maxim admitted. “She’s the only family I have left. Such a smart girl—she could read at five, always drawing something. And her laugh is so contagious even the grumpiest neighbors would smile.”
“My name’s Elena,” the girl introduced herself. “Good uncles are rarer than white crows these days.”
“Maxim,” he said, extending his hand. “Is it strange to love your own niece?”
“These days many parents abandon their own children, and here an uncle worries,” Elena said sadly. “Men like you ought to be listed in the Red Book.”
At the orphanage Katya first hid behind the caregiver, but when she recognized her uncle, she ran to him with a cry of joy.
“Uncle Max! You came! I knew you’d come back!” She wrapped her arms tight around his neck.
“Of course I came, my sunshine. How are you living here?”
“It’s not nice here, Uncle Max,” the girl whispered. “The older girls take the sweets, and one boy fights. And it’s scary to sleep—they cry at night. Take me home, please.”
“I’ll take you for sure, my good girl. I just need to get the papers done.”
The orphanage director, a stout woman with cold eyes, shook her head.
“A single man won’t be granted guardianship. You need a stable job and a wife. Those are the legal requirements.”
“But I’m her blood uncle!” Maxim protested. “I have money, I can give my niece a good life!”
“Money is fine, but we need certificates and documents,” the director replied icily. “Get official employment, marry a respectable woman, and then we’ll review your application.”
“Respectable? Are you saying I’m not respectable?”
“A man without a steady job and without a family is not the best candidate for a guardian,” she cut him off. “A girl needs stability, not a romantic uncle with good intentions.”
On the bus home Maxim happened to see a familiar face—the saleswoman Elena.
“Headed to our parts?” he asked in surprise.
“To my grandmother’s, in the neighboring village of Beryozovka,” she replied. “And how are things with your niece?”
Unexpectedly, Maxim told her the whole story. How he’d gone off to earn money, built plans for the future, and returned to ruins. Elena listened in silence, only shaking her head now and then.
“My God, how cruel,” she finally said. “The girl needs a family, and those bureaucrats only care about pieces of paper.”
“What should I do?” Maxim asked. “Katya’s wasting away there, and I can’t do anything.”
“What about your fiancée? You mentioned a ring…”
“Oh right, Irina,” Maxim gave a bitter half-smile. “I need to talk to her. Yes, talk—she’s waiting, and I haven’t even called.”
Irina was standing by her building with a stroller. When she saw Maxim, she turned pale.
“Max? You’re alive?”
“As you can see,” he nodded at the stroller. “And you, I see, haven’t been bored either.”
“Maxim, forgive me,” Irina lowered her gaze. “I thought you wouldn’t come back. Everyone said men disappear without a trace in the logging camps, and I…”
“And you decided not to take the risk,” Maxim finished calmly. “I told you—three years, and I’d be back.”
“But it’s been more than three years! And there was no word from you!”
“Because I was working like a cursed man to earn for our wedding, a house.”
“It just… happened,” Irina couldn’t find what to say.
“Where’s the child’s father?” Maxim nodded at the stroller.
“There is no father,” Irina snapped.
Maxim looked for a long time at the woman he’d considered his one and only for three years.
“All right. Just live, and don’t torture yourself with explanations.” He squeezed the ring box in his pocket. “I wish you happiness. Truly.”
“And what will you do?”
“I have Katya. That’s enough for happiness.”
The next day Maxim got a job as a loader at the local grocery store. The work was heavy but steady. The manager warned him right away:
“We don’t make allowances here. I don’t tolerate tardiness, and if you show up drunk—you’re fired on the spot.”
“That suits me,” Maxim replied. “I need an official job to apply for guardianship.”
“A noble cause,” the manager approved. “I’ll respect you for your niece. Not many men like that left.”
A week later Maxim found Elena in the same toy store.
“I have a business proposal for you,” he began without preamble.
“I’m listening,” Elena set aside the price tags.
“Marry me.”
Elena’s eyes widened.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“A marriage of convenience. For six months, max,” Maxim hurried to explain. “I’ll pay three hundred thousand rubles. As soon as I get guardianship of Katya, we’ll divorce immediately. I swear I won’t so much as lay a finger on you.”
Elena slowly sat down.
“For the sake of guardianship over your niece?”
“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but I have no other way. Katya is wasting away there, and those bureaucrats demand a wife.”
“And what about the girl? Will she learn the truth?”
“I’ll tell her as it is. Katya’s a smart girl, she’ll understand. And besides…” Maxim faltered. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
Elena asked to be covered and stepped outside. She was single, had long since broken up with her boyfriend, and money—three hundred thousand for six months—doesn’t grow on trees.
“All right,” she agreed unexpectedly. “But we’ll draw up a contract. So everything’s aboveboard.”
“Of course,” Maxim nodded. “I’m not the kind to break promises.”
Two months of bureaucratic red tape later, Katya finally crossed the threshold of her old home. Elena moved in with them to play the family before the inspection commissions, but lived in a separate room.
“Aunt Lena, what’s a ‘sham marriage’?” Katya asked at breakfast.
“Where did you pick up such big words?” Elena was surprised.
“Neighbor Aunt Galya told Dad, ‘Well, well, so you went and got yourself a sham marriage.’ I remembered.”
Maxim choked on his porridge.
“Aunt Galya reads too many tabloids,” Elena replied diplomatically. “And ‘sham’ is when people pretend.”
“And are you pretending to love Dad?”
“Katya!” Maxim rebuked his daughter.
“It’s fine,” Elena said gently. “You know, sweetheart, sometimes people start out pretending and end up with the truth. Life loves those surprises.”
“Have you fallen in love with Dad for real yet?”
“Kateryna!” Maxim repeated more sternly.
“Your dad is an interesting man,” Elena answered evasively. “And you’re a wonderful girl. How could anyone not love a family like this?”
“Aunt Lena, are you really going to leave?” Katya asked every evening.
“A promise is a promise,” Elena would reply, though Maxim noticed the sadness in her eyes.
“What if I ask you very, very much to stay?”
“Sunshine, grownups can’t always do what they want,” Elena explained. “Your dad and I have a contract.”
“A stupid contract!” Katya fumed. “I’d rip it up!”
“If only it were that simple,” Elena sighed.
“Aunt Lena, do you want to stay?”
Elena didn’t answer.
Six months flew by. On the day Elena was packing her things, Katya sobbed uncontrollably.
“I don’t want to! I won’t let Aunt Lena go!”
“Sweetheart, this is what we agreed,” Maxim explained softly, though his heart ached with longing.
“Uncle Max, you’re a coward!” Katya burst out through her tears. “A real coward!”
“Katya, don’t talk to your father like that,” Elena stepped in.
“He’s not a father! A father wouldn’t let Mom go!” the girl hiccuped. “And he’s afraid to even say he loves you!”
Maxim stared at his daughter, at a loss for words.
“Katya, things aren’t that simple in the adult world,” Elena tried to explain. “Your dad is an honorable man. He keeps his word.”
“And I want him to be brave! And to tell you the truth!”
“What truth, sweetheart?”
“That he loves you! That we all love you! That without you we’re miserable!”
Elena went to her mother in another village. The house felt empty, as if its soul had been taken out.
“Uncle Max, when is Aunt Lena coming back?” Katya asked every day.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you love her?”
Maxim froze, spoon halfway to his mouth.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re just as sad as I am,” the seven-year-old said wisely. “And she was sad too. I saw her cry when she thought no one was looking.”
“You did?”
“Uh-huh. And she ironed your shirts longer than the others. And she always made your favorite cutlets. And she looked at you with special eyes.”
“What kind of special eyes?”
“Like a princess looks at a prince in cartoons. Kind and shiny.”
Another two months passed. Every day Katya conducted an interrogation:
“Uncle Max, are you a coward?”
“Why would I be?”
“Cowards are afraid to admit they’re in love. That’s what they said in the cartoon.”
“Katya…”
“And cowards come up with all sorts of silly reasons not to do what they want.”
“They’re not silly reasons. They’re principles.”
“Principles are when you do the right thing. And you’re doing the wrong thing! Aunt Lena is crying, you’re sad, and I’m miserable. What’s right about that?”
“But I gave my word…”
“A stupid word!” Katya stomped her foot. “Tomorrow you’re going to Aunt Lena. With flowers. And you’ll tell her you love her.”
“What if she says no?”
“She won’t,” Katya declared confidently. “She loves you too. Women understand everything.”
“How do you know that?”
“I see it on TV. And Grandma also said: if a woman cooks borscht for a man for half a year, it means she loves him.”
“Borscht?”
“Yeah! Aunt Lena made you borscht. And strawberry compote too, even though she doesn’t like strawberries.”
The next day Maxim, with a bouquet of flowers, stood at Elena’s mother’s house. Elena herself opened the door.
“Maxim? Is something wrong with Katya?”
“Katya’s fine. She’s at home reading a book and waiting for good news.”
“What news?”
“Elena… I…” He held out the flowers. “Marry me.”
“We’re divorced,” she said, bewildered.
“For real this time. If you’ll say yes.”
“Maxim, but our contract…”
“To hell with the contract,” he said sharply, surprising even himself. “Katya’s right. I’m a coward. I hid behind formalities for six months instead of admitting the most important thing.”
“What thing?”
“That I fell in love with you from the first day. That without you the house isn’t a home, just walls. That Katya is right—we’re all miserable without you.”
Elena was silent so long that Maxim was ready to leave.
“I thought you’d never dare,” she said quietly. “And I didn’t know how to say it first.”
“So… is that a yes?”
“Of course it’s a yes, silly. I’ve been waiting half a year for you to realize that contracts can change when people change.”
“Change?”
“Did you think I agreed to play your wife for nothing? From the first meeting I liked that stubborn man with the sad eyes and his wonderful niece.”
Katya met them at home with a triumphant look.
“I told you! Now I’ll have a mom and dad for real!”
“How did you know it would work out?” Maxim asked.
“Because I’m smart!” Katya said proudly. “And I also overheard Aunt Lena telling Grandma on the phone, ‘Mom, I’ve fallen in love with this clumsy bear. What do I do?’”
“You were eavesdropping?” Elena asked sternly.
“By accident! I was just standing by the door and listening. That’s not the same thing!”
“Of course it’s not the same thing,” Maxim laughed. “You’re growing up to be a diplomat.”
“What’s a diplomat?”
“A person who knows how to find a way out of difficult situations,” Elena explained.
“Then I’m definitely a diplomat! I got you two married!”
A year later, when Elena’s belly had rounded, Katya made a long list of names for the future little brother or sister.
“Listen to my options,” she announced solemnly. “If it’s a boy: Maxim the Second, Strongman, or Smarty. If it’s a girl: Elena the Second, Princess, or Beauty.”
“Princess?” Elena was surprised. “That’s not a name.”
“Why not? Then it’ll be clear what she’ll be like!”
“And what will they say at school?”
“They’ll say, ‘Here comes Princess!’ And they’ll be jealous!”
“Logical,” Maxim agreed. “Maybe we should pick something more… traditional?”
“Dad, you promised I’d help choose the name!”
“Help—yes. But the final decision is still ours.”
“Then I propose a compromise,” Katya said seriously. “An official normal name, and at home I’ll call her Princess or him Strongman. Deal?”
“Deal, our little diplomat,” Elena laughed.
Maxim and Elena could only laugh as they looked over the pages covered in a child’s handwriting. A family that began as a transaction turned out to be the truest love they’d been searching for all their lives.
“Do you know what’s most amazing?” Elena said, sorting through Katya’s notes.
“What?”
“We set out to cheat the system, and ended up fooling ourselves. We thought we were playing roles, but in fact we were learning to be a family.”
“Good thing we have such a wise counselor,” Maxim nodded toward Katya, who was busily drawing a portrait of the future baby brother or sister.
“Aunt Lena, you won’t leave again, will you?” the girl suddenly asked without looking up.
“I’m not going anywhere, sunshine. And I’m not Aunt Lena anymore. I’m Mom. And moms don’t leave their children.”
“And Dad won’t change his mind?”
“Your dad, it turns out, is very stubborn,” Elena smiled. “When he decides something, he doesn’t back down.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“In our case—very good,” Maxim said. “Because I’ve decided to love you both all my life. And I’m not backing down from that.”
Katya nodded contentedly and returned to her drawing. On the sheet, a picture took shape: Dad, Mom, herself, and a tiny person in a stroller. The sun shone over them all, and at the bottom, in big letters, she had written: “Our real family.”
